


Adapting

by Venusdoom3



Series: Belonging [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apologies, Apology Sex, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, Ballroom Dancing, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cathartic Talks, DJ Spider-Man, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Happy Sappy Boys, Indoor Rock Climbing, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Kitchen Sex, Lonely Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meditation, Men Crying, Minecraft, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Missed Connections, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, New Besties, Nostalgia, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Old Timey Music, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rimming, Romance, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Self-indulgent fluff, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Wanda Is A Good Bro, dinner date, tinkering Tony, xbox
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: "It sucks having to share him after having him all to yourself for so long, right?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It sucks having to share him after having him all to yourself for so long, right?"

"It's a good thing looks don't kill, because I don't know the first thing about planning a military funeral."

Bucky tears his scowl away from Steve, who is in the middle of an animated conversation with Tony and Sam across the common room of the Avengers facility, and meets the amused green eyes of Natasha Romanoff.

"It's okay, James," she says, sitting on the couch next to Bucky and patting his metal forearm through his long-sleeved thermal shirt. "They're not going to take him away from you."

"I know," Bucky mutters, annoyance flitting across his face. He wasn't worried Steve would actually leave him, especially not for Tony or even for Sam, Steve's "modern day" best friend. Besides, the others wouldn't dare interfere in the relationship; they'd seen Bucky in the midst of blind fury before, and he very much doubted they'd risk invoking it again.

Not even a cocky little shit like Howard Stark's kid.

"So what'd he do, then?" Nat tucks one leg beneath her, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and her chin in her hand. "Let me guess: he leaves his dirty socks all over your room. Or maybe he puts his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher. I know it can't be leaving the toilet seat up, or does that matter to guys, too?"

Reluctantly, Bucky cracks a tiny smile. "Not really. And no, it's none of those things."

She pauses for a scant moment before guessing in earnest. "It sucks having to share him after having him all to yourself for so long, right?"

Startled, Bucky goggles at her for a second, mouth open. "How the hell do you do that?"

With a self-satisfied smirk, Nat shrugs one shoulder. "I'm pretty good at reading people. Spy, remember?"

Bucky snorts a little, turning his attention back to Steve, who waves his hands wildly as he talks, Sam and Tony nodding in agreement with whatever he's saying. "I'll give you that. It's just… I know it's stupid, but he promised me we'd go back to our room after supper and watch a movie, just the two of us. And now it's ten thirty at night, and he's just getting warmed up over there."

He doesn't mention _why_ this bothers him so much: because Steve had promised before – and continues to promise even after – they left their cozy, secluded country nest to move into the facility with the rest of the team that they would always take time for just them. So far, he's kept his promise… mostly… although from time to time, Steve gets caught up in something else and all but forgets Bucky exists – at least the way Bucky sees it.

"God, men can be such clueless dolts sometimes." Nat rolls her eyes. "And I'm talking about him, not you. Why don't you head back to your place, and I'll make damn sure he notices you're not here. Okay?"

With a deep sigh, Bucky manages another half-smile and stands. "Thanks, but don't worry about it. He'll come find me when he pulls his head out of his ass."

"Make him grovel," she hisses, and Bucky's smile widens a fraction as he exits the room.

After a long, morose shower, Bucky stands in the kitchenette wearing nothing but blue plaid pajama pants, pouting as he watches a cup of chamomile tea steep, when he hears the telltale _beep-snick_ of the door to their cozy little suite opening. His back stiffens as he listens to Steve's progress: _thump, thump_ as he drops his shoes by the door; a mild jingle as he hangs the key ring holding his electronic key card on its designated hook; and then the soft swish of his sock-clad footsteps on the tile floor only momentarily precedes the warmth of his arms surrounding Bucky's waist.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve whispers, his breath warm on the nape of Bucky's neck where his wet hair is tied in a sloppy knot.

Bucky responds by ignoring him, dumping two heaping teaspoons of sugar into his teacup simply because Steve constantly admonishes him about overdoing it.

Steve takes a long, slow breath and releases it in a soft sigh, tickling Bucky's neck. Resting his chin on Bucky's shoulder, Steve murmurs, "I know. I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

Humming in agreement, Bucky removes the tea bag from his cup, setting it in a wet lump on the saucer before stirring the sugar into the hot liquid.

"Please forgive me." Steve's voice, already naturally deep, lowers further as he hugs Bucky tighter, the vibration of his words palpable with his chest pressed against Bucky's back. _Do_ not _get turned on_. "You're much more important to me than bullshitting about strategy and weaponry with Stark and Sam. I'm sorry."

Not good enough.

After a beat of silence, Steve nuzzles against the side of Bucky's neck, pressing a soft kiss there. "Please, baby." Another kiss, higher. "Forgive me." Soft, wet suction just behind Bucky's ear, making him shiver. "I'm sorry." Steve's hot mouth envelops Bucky's earlobe, his clever tongue teasing the sensitive flesh. Despite himself, Bucky tilts his head away, giving Steve silent permission to continue his tender seduction. Steve reaches up with one hand to thumb over Bucky's nearest nipple while the other hand turns Bucky's head ever so slightly and trails hot, wet kisses along his jaw line. Bucky's willpower snaps at last. Turning in Steve's arms, he parts his lips to Steve's open, seeking mouth, allowing Steve's tongue to dart inside and coax his own into a gentle tussle. After two or three – or seven or eight – long, progressively deep kisses, Bucky pulls back, breathless, and fixes Steve with a petulant stare.

"You _are_ an asshole."

Steve smiles back at him. "I know. I'll make it up to you."

Raising an eyebrow, Bucky slides his hands from the pronounced dip at Steve's lower back to his perfectly shaped ass, well muscled and hard as stone beneath his khakis. "Is that right?"

"Mmm." Steve trails the back of one finger down Bucky's abs, dipping tentatively beneath the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms. "I have a couple ideas."

"Like wh—" Bucky trails off with a choked sound of surprise as Steve drops abruptly to his knees, whisking Bucky's pants down as he does so.

"First of all," Steve begins, but rather than following up with words, he instead wraps warm, deft fingers around the base of Bucky's stiffening cock, palming his balls and squeezing with the lightest touch. Bucky loses his breath in a rush, blindly gripping the edge of the countertop behind him, as Steve rubs his cheek against Bucky's dick, closing his eyes with an expression of reverence on his impossibly handsome face, his dark lashes fanning beautifully over his cheeks.

"I love you," Steve whispers, casting his big blue eyes upward along with a little smirk just before he takes Bucky's semi-hard cock into his mouth, twisting his tongue around the head and teasing the slit before admitting more of the thick shaft to slide between his red lips, stretched obscenely around its girth.

" _Fuck_ , Steve," Bucky manages, knuckles white as he grips the countertop, watching his dick swell and harden between Steve's lips. Very few sights are burned as indelibly into his mind as this particular one; if Bucky had a fraction of Steve's artistic talent, it would be the first thing he drew.

Pulling off Bucky's dick, Steve laps up a trail of saliva that trickles down the shaft. "And furthermore," he says, his voice rough the way it only sounds when he's half crazy with arousal, gripping Bucky by the hips and manhandling him until he faces the counter again. With one hand on the small of Bucky's back, Steve presses until Bucky leans over the counter, bracing both hands on the tiled backsplash; he then pushes gently on Bucky's inner thighs, guiding his legs further apart.

Bucky moans weakly, knowing what Steve has in mind and utterly helpless with lust, his knees trembling. When Steve palms his taut cheeks and spreads him open to swipe his tongue over Bucky's quivering opening, Bucky gasps, his dick jumping and drooling pre-come onto the counter. "Steve," Bucky whines, reaching back with one hand to thread his fingers through Steve's short, blond hair.

"Mm-hmm. Shh, baby," Steve croons, his breath ghosting cool against Busky's sensitive flesh. "I got you."

Bucky groans loudly as Steve delves in with his tongue, rimming him in earnest, his fingers kneading the thick muscles of Bucky's ass while his tongue darts over and around and inside Bucky's tight hole. As with everything else in his life, Steve gives one hundred percent of his effort to the endeavor, tongue-fucking his lover with what seems like impossible enthusiasm, until Bucky can't take another second of the intense stimulation and comes with a heated, guttural cry, his release painting his heaving chest and belly and the countertop beneath him.

Whimpering and quivering, Bucky collapses into Steve's arms the moment Steve turns him around, resting his head on Steve's shoulder and panting against his neck. Without a word, Steve holds Bucky in his arms, stroking his hair where it has escaped his ponytail, until Bucky's gelatinous muscles are coordinated enough to hold him upright on his own. Bucky pulls back, certain the blissful expression on his face looks utterly ridiculous, although the adoring way Steve looks at him indicates otherwise.

"Do you forgive me?" Steve cups Bucky's face in one hand, and Bucky leans into it, nestling his cheek into Steve's palm.

"I'd probably forgive you for anything after that," Bucky says dreamily, and Steve laughs a little, bending to put Bucky's pants back to rights.

"I am sorry, baby." Steve slides an arm around Bucky's waist and guides him away from the counter and the ice cold tea in his cup.

Allowing Steve to steer him into the bedroom for what promises to be an explosive conclusion to their kitchen sexcapades, Bucky nuzzles against the side of Steve's face. "It's okay," he murmurs into Steve's ear, making Steve shiver in delight. "Just don't let it happen again."

"I won't," Steve vows, crawling over Bucky on the bed and leaning down to kiss him. Before the minute is up, they've both forgotten what they were talking about in the first place.

**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda smiles, resting a tentative hand on his flesh forearm, and Bucky peers through the strands of his hair at her long, slender fingers, marveling at the gentleness of a hand capable of such destruction. "No one is beyond help," she says softly. "You and I are a lot alike. Held captive for many years, stripped of free will, and used as weapons. Now look at us. I don't think either of us is beyond redemption. Do you, Sergeant?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. So it's been eight months since I posted the first chapter. Time to pick it up, dust it off, and get cracking on part 3 in my [Belonging series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/647105)!

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky swipes at his eyes, blinking hard to dispel the tears gathered there. "Yeah?" he replies. He senses a presence at his elbow before he even turns his head enough to see the willowy form leaning against the railing next to him on the rooftop deck, her long hair rustling in the breeze.

Wanda clears her throat delicately before speaking in her soft, accented voice. "Are you all right? I noticed you've been standing out here for a while."

"Oh, uh. Yeah. Just thinking," Bucky says, chagrined at the way his back crackles when he shifts. Maybe he has been standing there, watching puffy white clouds float past, for a little too long.

With a nod, Wanda falls silent again, her huge green eyes trained tactfully on the sky rather than on Bucky himself. Bucky doesn't know her well, but she does seem particularly thoughtful and empathetic that way. "It can be difficult joining a team when you've gotten used to being just two," she murmurs, and he glances at her, surprised to see a tear of her own tracking down her pale cheek. "My whole life, it was just me and my twin brother," she continues. "When Pietro was killed and I joined the Avengers, it took me a while to adjust. Actually, do you know what helped? Talking to Steve. He especially made me feel like I wasn't alone."

Bucky hums, nodding morosely. "Problem is, I can't exactly talk to Steve about this. He's the one _making_ me feel alone. No matter what he tells me, seems like he always has something more important to do or someone more important to talk to anymore."

"Ah." Wanda pauses for a long moment. "Vision and I got together pretty early on, but he was brand new, so he had a lot to deal with, himself. I couldn't really lean on him too much. That's why it really helped to have somebody outside the relationship to talk to. Maybe that's what you need."

"Maybe." Bucky heaves a deep sigh, letting his hair fall over his eyes. "It's hard for me, though. Throw my PTSD and some trust issues in there, and I'm pretty much beyond help."

Wanda smiles, resting a tentative hand on his flesh forearm, and Bucky peers through the strands of his hair at her long, slender fingers, marveling at the gentleness of a hand capable of such destruction. "No one is beyond help," she says softly. "You and I are a lot alike. Held captive for many years, stripped of free will, and used as weapons. Now look at us. I don't think either of us is beyond redemption. Do you, Sergeant?"

A lump forms in Bucky's throat, and when he turns to her, she surprises him by wrapping her slim arms around his ribs and hugging him tightly. Touched, Bucky holds the much smaller, much younger woman against his chest, tension bleeding out of his muscles. "Wanda?"

She lifts her luminous, dark-rimmed eyes to his face, and he manages a genuine smile.

"Call me Bucky."

**

"Maybe I'm expecting too much." Bucky rests his elbows on his knees, slouching on the edge of Wanda's bed. "I knew when we moved in here that I wasn't going to have him all to myself anymore, but I guess I thought I'd have more of him than _this_."

Wanda nods, compassion painting her elfin features. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"I've tried. He tells me it's healthy for us to spend time apart." Bucky rolls his eyes. "He says he wants me to be independent, to develop relationships with the rest of the team. After what he's been through, he of all people should understand how much I depend on him to be my anchor."

"Well..." Sitting next to Bucky, Wanda strokes his back through his t-shirt. Her touch is comforting, reminding him of his sister, who would stroke his back or his hair the same way as they sat listening to the radio or reading books together. "I don't think he's wrong about those things. I think maybe he's not expressing it as gently as he could be, though."

"Steve at his best." Bucky snorts. "All the delicacy of a rampaging bull."

Wanda giggles, covering her mouth with one hand. It's easy to forget how young she truly is, Bucky muses, considering some of the wisdom coming out of her mouth. Then again, everyone seems young to a man a hundred and one years old, even if he did spend the majority of those years in cryogenic storage. "Well, then, give him what he wants," Wanda says, shrugging one shoulder beneath her oversized pink t-shirt, which she wears over black leggings. As soon as they returned to her room, she kicked off her tall boots, declaring her lifelong devotion to being barefoot whenever possible. "I'm a good start. You can hang out with me whenever you want."

"Okay, then. I will."

Wanda leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. "You know, I think Steve can still be your anchor, but you should be able to depend on other people, too. Pietro was my rock, and when I lost him, I thought I'd never get close to anyone. I'll never have a bond with anyone else like I had with him, of course, but having other people I can count on has helped me so much."

Bucky shudders, his blood running cold at the thought of losing Steve in any way, shape, or form, and Wanda lifts her head and gives him a sympathetic smile.

"He's not going anywhere." Her eyes widen further, giving her an adorably alien-like appearance. "Ooh! Can I brush your hair?"

With a laugh, Bucky slides obligingly to the floor in front of her. "Hell, why not?"

Just as Wanda really hits her stride with the hairbrush and Bucky has been rendered limp as a noodle from the delicious attention to his scalp, a knock sounds at the door. "Come in," Wanda calls.

Vision steps into the room, sending Bucky a polite nod. "Hello, Sergeant Barnes. My lovely Wanda."

"Hi, Vis." Wanda's hands never falter as she continues running her brush through Bucky's hair.

"You both look very relaxed." Vision smiles a little, bending to press a kiss to Wanda's forehead. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," Wanda assures him.

"You're not interrupting," Bucky adds, looking up at the android who, even since Steve and Bucky had moved into the facility, has been looking more and more human thanks to the molecule-altering nanotechnology Tony has been working on. Vision's skin is no longer the deep wine color Bucky remembers from the airport battle before he and Steve went into hiding; it is a much lighter, almost natural skin tone, although it still bears a slightly waxy sheen, and the glow of the Mind Stone is still visible beneath the skin on Vision's forehead. "I'm just picking your cookie's brain. I hope that's okay."

"Wanda is not my possession." With a placid smile, Vision sits on the bed beside Wanda. "She is wise beyond her years, so I understand the desire to spend time talking with her."

"Besides the fact that I'm just awesome," Wanda laughs, swatting Vision's arm.

Bucky grins. "You _are_  pretty swell. And you're a wizard with that hairbrush. I haven't felt this mellow since we moved in here."

Another knock at the door causes all three of their heads to turn just as Steve pokes his head into the room. "Oh – hey," he says, surprise evident on his face. "Wanda, I was just wondering if you'd seen Bucky, but I guess that answers that question. What are you guys doing?"

"Shooting the shit," Bucky says, standing and stretching. He doesn't miss the way Steve's eyes drop to the strip of bare stomach revealed by Bucky's t-shirt riding up. He turns back to Wanda and leans over, kissing the side of her head. "Thanks, toots."

"Any time, my friend."

As they head down the main hall, Steve glances at Bucky, curiosity clearly eating him alive. "Since when do you hang out with Wanda and Vision?"

Bucky shrugs. "You weren't around. What do you care?"

His mouth falling open, Steve pauses mid-step, but Bucky doesn't slow his pace, continuing toward the common area feeling lighter than he has in days.

**

[Chapter art here! ](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Adapting-Chapter-2-756104815)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This isn't the first time I've written about Wanda brushing Bucky's hair. It's one of my pet headcanons, for some reason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When nine fifteen rolled around with no sign of Steve, Bucky had texted him a single question mark. Steve's disappointing reply came forty-five minutes later.
> 
> It's just one more in a growing list of recent disappointments. Bucky's almost used to them by now.

_Hey sweetheart. This is taking longer than I thought. About 1/2way through. Back in a couple hrs. XOXO_

Bucky's brow furrows as he reads Steve's text message, clenching his teeth as he taps out a quick response: _k_

It's ten in the morning, and Bucky would normally be out of bed by now, but he had expected Steve home by nine based on Steve's own estimation of how long it would take to train some of the newer recruits on hand to hand combat. Bucky has been out of bed, in fact; he got up and took a shower around eight thirty and immediately crawled back into bed in anticipation of Steve's return. When nine fifteen rolled around with no sign of Steve, Bucky had texted him a single question mark. Steve's disappointing reply came forty-five minutes later.

It's just one more in a growing list of recent disappointments. Bucky's almost used to them by now. Still, it never fails to sting when he gets his hopes up for some time alone with Steve only to be let down by his absence, and, worse yet, by his obliviousness to how much it affects Bucky's state of mind.

Hitching a sigh, Bucky wraps his arms around the giant teddy bear tucked into the bed with him, burying his face in its soft tan fur. It still brings just as much comfort as it did when Steve first gave it to him; that was the day they moved into their little country house in New Jersey, which Bucky misses to a gut-wrenching degree. He pines for the days when it was just the two of them in a charming little hideaway in the middle of nowhere, cooking together, taking walks together, making love whenever and wherever they pleased, fully immersed in each other with no distractions to detract from their time together.

Now it feels like pulling teeth just trying to get Steve into the same room with him.

"Enough of the pity party," Bucky mumbles into the bear's fur, giving it one last squeeze before throwing back the blankets and dressing in sweat shorts and one of Steve's soft, well-worn t-shirts. Slipping his feet into his favorite flip-flops – lined with memory foam! What's not to love? – he wanders out to the common area to see if anyone's around. It's deserted except for Bruce Banner, who sits at the breakfast bar in white linen pants and a salmon-colored shirt of the same material, eating toast and sipping from a steaming mug while he reads the newspaper.

Bruce looks up when Bucky shuffles into the kitchenette, and his open, handsome face breaks into a gentle smile. "Good morning, James. Did you sleep well?"

With a  shrug, Bucky opens the fridge and grabs the milk. "I guess."

"Is everything all right?" Bruce asks, his soft voice cautious but compassionate, and Bucky looks up from the bowl of corn flakes he's pouring to find Bruce's kind brown eyes fixed on him from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

"Well..." Bucky has already spilled his guts to Wanda, and he's not terribly comfortable with the idea of sharing his relationship woes with the whole team. Then again, maybe an intervention with his friends would give Steve the wake-up call he deserves. His lips quirking a little at the thought, Bucky shrugs. "I don't know. Not really. I'm having a hard time adjusting to everything."

Bruce nods, gesturing at the steaming teapot in front of him. "Why don't you grab a cup and join me? Jasmine green tea. My own blend."

"Nice." Bucky snags a mug from the cabinet and sits at the counter with his bowl of cereal, digging in while Bruce pours tea into both of their mugs. "Thanks, Doc."

Bruce offers Bucky a section of the newspaper, and they eat in companionable silence for a while. When Bucky takes a sip of tea, his eyes widen. " _Wow_ , that's good."

"Thanks," Bruce says with a smile. "I have a little indoor garden, so I grow my own tea and herbs. My white lavender tea is incredible, too. Next time I make a pot, I'll let you know."

"That'd be great." Bucky regards Bruce for a moment as the older man fills in a box on the newspaper crossword puzzle. "Can I ask you something?"

Bruce nods, tapping his pencil on the paper. "Sure."

"I'd have to imagine your situation is kind of stressful."

Chuckling, Bruce looks up from the paper again. "Yeah. A little."

"How do you stay so..." Bucky trails off, searching his brain for the word. His mind runs pretty smoothly these days, but he still encounters mental roadblocks from time to time.

"Serene?" Bruce suggests, and Bucky nods. "I've spent a lot of years learning how to keep my demons under control. Literally and figuratively. I've found a couple techniques that really help with anger, anxiety, self-doubt, and all those sorts of things. I can show you some if you'd like."

"I would. If you don't mind."

After they clear their breakfast dishes, Bruce leads Bucky to the suite he shares with Natasha, laid out similarly to the one Bucky occupies with Steve: a tiny kitchenette, a cozy living area, a bathroom, and a separate bedroom. In the living area, the furniture is arranged against the walls, and instead of a coffee table, a large bamboo mat occupies the center of the room. Bruce turns on a nearby speaker and presses a button on his phone; the soothing strain of a bamboo flute fills the room. He then produces a couple of cushions from the nearby closet and drops them on the mat.

"Have a seat. However you feel comfortable is fine."

Bucky obliges, mirroring Bruce as he sits cross-legged on the cushion, leaving them facing each other a couple feet apart. "So, what are we doing?"

"I'm going to take you through a guided meditation," Bruce says, setting aside his glasses and running his fingers through his dark, unruly curls. "Would you feel comfortable closing your eyes?"

Bucky hesitates, then nods and tucks his hair behind his ears, letting his eyelids slip shut. Bruce has an inherent trustworthiness about him that puts Bucky instantly at ease, and he has no sense of danger in the man's presence. Besides, curiosity might eat him alive if he doesn't see this through.

"Good." Bruce's tone is low and soothing, his words taking on a slow, rhythmic cadence. "Imagine you're standing at the top of a staircase. At the bottom is a state of complete serenity. Now imagine you're taking a step down the stairs. You're one step closer to that state of serenity. Feel your shoulders and your arms relaxing, becoming loose and heavy. Take another step down..."

Bucky follows Bruce's voice, allowing the tension to uncoil from his muscles, and by the time Bruce has led him to the bottom of the imaginary staircase, Bucky feels like a pile of boneless pudding.

"You feel peaceful," Bruce murmurs. "Your body feels heavy, but also light, like you're floating. Let yourself drift while you continue following my voice. Let the words float through your mind while you remain calm and relaxed. Absorb these words, and take them into yourself as truth.

"You are worthy of happiness.

"You are a strong person, while you understand no one needs to be strong all the time.

"You are a good person.

"You are unique, and kind, and likeable, and worthy of love.

"Your worth is not measured by your abilities, your appearance, or your achievements. You are a worthwhile person just the way you are.

"Be kind to yourself.

"Take care of yourself physically and emotionally.

"Forgive yourself for your mistakes. Let go of your regrets.

"Take time for yourself. Accept yourself.

"You are capable of making positive changes... capable of nurturing yourself. Take this time to relax and enjoy feeling calm and confident." Bruce's voice falls away, and Bucky basks in the calm and comfort behind his eyelids, allowing the bamboo flute to wash over him. Eventually, Bruce speaks again, his voice even gentler than before. "I'll count down from ten to one. When I reach one, open your eyes. You'll be calm, relaxed, and fully alert."

When Bruce reaches the end of his countdown, Bucky opens his eyes, smiling. "Wow," he breathes. "Was that magic?"

Still cross-legged opposite him, Bruce smiles back. "No, even though it feels that way sometimes. It's more of a way to practice mindfulness. To put yourself first."

"It's genius. Thank you. I haven't felt this good since we got here."

"I'm glad it helped," Bruce says, patting Bucky's shoulder when they're both on their feet. "I try to find time to meditate every day. I usually start around seven a.m. with a half hour of yoga. I don't know if you know what that is—" Bucky shakes his head. "It's a Hindu practice that combines meditation, breathing awareness, and body positions. If you're interested," Bruce continues, "I can show you that, too."

"That'd be super." Bucky rolls Bruce's shoulder pat into a hug, which Bruce accepts without hesitation. "I can't thank you enough."

"No need." Bruce waves a dismissive hand. "You're part of the family, James. Family helps each other."

_Part of the family_ , Bucky muses as he wanders toward their room.

The shower is running when Bucky lets himself into the suite, and the pile of sweaty clothes in the bedroom makes it apparent that Steve has returned. When Steve exits the bathroom on a plume of steam, a towel wrapped around his delectably slim waist, Bucky is back in bed, wearing nothing but a smile. "Hey, baby doll," he purrs, his smile widening at the way Steve's mouth falls open. "You too worn out to roll in the hay?"

Steve drops his towel and crawls over Bucky, dipping down to brush Bucky's lips with his own. He smells heavenly, his golden skin damp and warm. "I'm never too tired for you," Steve whispers. The naked adoration in the depths of his clear blue eyes sends a shudder of delight through Bucky, who wraps his arms around Steve's neck and pulls him as close as he possibly can without fusing their very molecules.

Maybe tomorrow he'll ask Bruce how to do _that_.

**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Buck,_   
>    
>  _I'd like to spend some time with you later. How about dinner out, maybe a movie?_   
>    
>  _Love you,_   
>    
>  _Steve_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a ridiculous amount of fun making art for this chapter.

** Chapter 4 **

[](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Meditation-with-Bruce-760840003)

"Buck? S'that you?" Steve's sleepy voice floats out of the bedroom as Bucky rifles through the hall closet.

"Yep. Morning, doll." Bucky pokes his head into the bedroom, sneakers in hand. "I'll be back later."

"Wait." Steve sits up on his elbows, looking rumpled and confused and adorable. "Where've you been? I'm not used to you getting up before me."

"I was on the roof," Bucky says, snagging a pair of socks out of the dresser – Steve's, but who's counting? – and tugging them on.

Steve blinks, eyes still puffy with sleep. "You – what? What for?"

"Meditation and yoga with Bruce. I just had breakfast with Wanda, and now Nat's going to teach me how to climb the rock wall in the gym." Bucky leans over and kisses Steve's forehead. "Love you, sugar."

"But—" Bucky's already out of the room and barely hears Steve call after him, "Love you, too."

**

"Keep your arms straight!" Nat calls up to Bucky where he clings to the wall like a brand-new baby Spider-Man. "Remember, bend and push with your knees. Use your core strength."

"All good advice from the woman who's trying to kill me," Bucky snarks, although he corrects his posture and manages to climb another few feet before stopping again. "Okay, for real, I'm higher than I said I was gonna go. Can we be done?"

"Oh, Jesus. You big baby." Nat laughs. "Yeah, come on down. Remember the command?"

"Um, yeah. Ready to lower...?"

"Okay, lowering!"

With his feet safely on the ground, Bucky breathes a massive sigh of relief, bracing his hands on his knees as he doubles over. "Okay. That was part fun, part terrifying," he admits as Nat slaps him on the back.

"You did amazing," she says, favoring him with a tightening the high ponytail in her long, crimson hair. "I don't know what you were afraid of. You jump off buildings _on purpose_. What's the big deal about a forty-foot wall?"

"I jump off buildings when I'm chasing or being chased," Bucky says, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they head toward the elevator leading from the underground gym level to the common area. "Something about being at that height deliberately just puts me on edge."

"We'll work on that."

[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Rock-Climbing-with-Natasha-760840267?ga_submit_new=10%3A1535074545)

They emerge from the elevator to find Pepper Potts busy in the kitchenette, assembling an army's worth of sandwiches with young Peter Parker as her apprentice. "Hey, Widow! Hey, Sarge!" Peter calls in greeting, waving a butter knife in the air and succeeding in splattering mustard on the counter and the floor.

"Peter," Pepper scolds, the corner of her lips twitching as she suppresses a smile. Bucky has already developed a soft spot for the woman who fits right into the role of den mother to the assorted hooligans living at the facility.

"Sorry, sorry." Peter darts around the kitchenette, grabbing paper towels and wiping up the mess. When he pops up again, he focuses his attention on Bucky. "Hey, Sarge, remember that Xbox game I was telling you about?"

" _Minecraft_?" Bucky guesses, and Peter gives an eager nod.

"Yeah! You wanna play this afternoon? I mean, if you want to – if you have time, or—"

"Sure, Pete." Bucky shakes his head. The kid's excitability is always entertaining. "I'm just going to take a shower, and then we'll play. I'll be back in twenty minutes." He turns to Nat with a smart-ass grin. "Thanks for the near death experience, Sensei."

"Brat." She takes a swipe at him, but he's already out of reach, laughing as he heads back to the apartment.

Bucky's phone chimes, indicating a text message from Steve, as he lets himself inside. _Having a good day, gorgeous?_ As he heads for the shower, Bucky taps out a reply:

_Yeah, awesome so far! Just about to shower, then lunch. Maybe I'll see you?_

He's already in the shower by the time Steve's reply comes just a minute later: _Wait up! I'll shower with you. ;)_

**

"Aaaghhh! No! Shit, there's a creeper in my bedroom!"

"That's not a creeper; that's a zombie!" Peter pushes against Bucky's metal arm, snickering while he expertly controls his own half of the split screen. "Hit it with the diamond sword!"

Mashing buttons on the controller in his hands, Bucky can't help laughing himself as his pixelated character waves the weapon wildly in front of him. "He got me!" he yelps, hanging his head. "Ugh, killed by a stupid zombie."

"Go back to your corpse and get your stuff back," Peter advises. "Check out my palace. I have a separate bedroom to lock my pigs in so I never have to go looking for pork chops."

Reclining on the couch next to Bucky, Steve shakes his head, giving Sam the side-eye. "Do you know what the hell they're talking about?"

"No, but I know they've been playing this goddamn game for—" Sam checks his phone. "Eight hours! How aren't your asses asleep?"

"Buck, how about we call it a night?" Steve asked, his voice hopeful.

"Shh – I'm trying to get my inventory back," Bucky says, eyes trained on the screen. He doesn't see Steve's face fall, and he registers Steve's rise from the couch, but before he can ask where Steve's going, a giant spider attacks him onscreen, and with a screech, he wields the diamond sword once again in defense.

[](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Xbox-with-Peter-760839404)

**

Steve is already asleep when Bucky finally comes to bed just before midnight, his eyes grainy and sore from staring at the high definition TV for most of the day. Stripping to his underwear, Bucky crawls beneath the covers with ideas of waking Steve with hot, wet kisses on the nape of his neck, but as soon as Bucky's head sinks into his obscenely comfortable memory foam pillow, his eyelids slam immediately closed.

Steve stirs, turning onto his side facing Bucky, and slides closer. Warm and sleepy, he wraps himself around Bucky, touching Bucky's stubbled face with reverent fingertips in the near darkness. "Hey," he murmurs. "I missed you."

"Mmm," Bucky responds, positive he meant to open his mouth, although it didn't seem to work out that way. He can't keep his eyes open, even though he tries when Steve nuzzles against his throat. He hums again, electric tingles of excitement flooding his body from every point of contact between them, but before he can convince his cement-dipped limbs to respond, he's asleep.

**

When Bucky awakens to his phone's alarm at six thirty the next morning, Steve has been gone long enough that his side of the bed is cool to the touch. Bucky finds a note on the nightstand in Steve's neat script:

_Buck,_

_I'd like to spend some time with you later. How about dinner out, maybe a movie?_

_Love you,_

_Steve_

Smiling, Bucky rubs his eyes with one hand while sending Steve a quick text with the other: _Dinner and a movie sounds swell. Meet you in the garage by your bike at five._

Steve's response is nearly instantaneous: _Can't wait_

After meditation and yoga, Bucky and Bruce head inside for breakfast and find Tony making coffee in the kitchenette. "Jolly Green," Tony says in greeting, gesturing at them with a novelty mug that reads _I'm a ray of fucking sunshine_. "Terminator. A little go-go juice, gentlemen?"

"You're a saint," Bucky says as he parks his butt on one of the high stools across the counter, accepting the mug Tony hands him and dumping sugar into it before noticing its slogan: _Old as Fuck_. Bucky makes a face. "Oh, that's cute."

"I know." Tony is clearly proud of himself, grinning at Bucky as he hands Bruce a cup. "Here you go, my fellow genius."

Bruce eyes his mug, emblazoned with large letters reading _Time to suck today's dick!_ "Tony, I'm not drinking from... oh, to hell with it."

"Atta boy. Be sure to swallow. So, Terminator." Tony turns back to Bucky, leaning against the counter as he takes a sip of his own coffee. "I was hoping you could help me with something in the lab today."

"Me?" Bucky's eyes widen. 

Tony rolls his eyes, but his good humor is unmistakable. "Jesus, Grandpa, get with the times. You mean you're not even caught up to the eighties yet? I know what we're watching next movie night."

"I know who Terminator is." Bucky laughs. "I just meant, why would you want _my_ help in the lab?"

"Oh, I don't know." Tony smirks at him. "Maybe because some of the most advanced technology on the planet is helping you hold that there cup of coffee? I want to tinker with your arm, if that's okay."

"Sure," Bucky says with a shrug despite Bruce's expression of alarm. "As long as you promise not to install any recording devices – video _or_ audio – and nothing that's gonna give my arm a mind of its own and start pinching Steve's ass in the middle of the night or something."

"You mean more than you already do," Tony said with a dismissive wave, and the three of them laughed. Bucky hadn't realized it, but he missed the sound of his own laughter interlaced with that of a group.

"You don't want to know what I get up to in bed with my robot arm." Bucky lifts an eyebrow, and Tony shudders visibly while Bruce buries his face in both hands.

"I can only imagine. Poor Steve."

"Poor Steve, nothing," Bucky scoffs. "He's kinkier about the arm than I am."

"Not the hundred-year-old virgin!" Tony claps his hands to his face, _Home Alone-_ style. "Say it isn't so!"

"Ain't been any virgins in our bed since nineteen thirty-six, Stark."

"Ew," Tony says mildly, sending Bruce and Bucky off on a gale of laughter as he refills his coffee cup, still grinning. Bucky can't count the number of silent prayers of thanks he's given for Tony not only bringing Steve back into the fold, but inviting Bucky to join, not to mention giving them both a home and actively welcoming them in more ways than Bucky could ever have expected. He was shockingly unphased to find out about their romantic relationship, too – seemed, in fact, to have expected the news. Bucky doesn't know if Tony considers them friends, per se, but he's been nothing but friend _ly_ , and Bucky thinks that, despite the odds, he actually likes Howard's precocious son.

Bruce tags along to the lab, where Tony spends a few hours poking and prodding at Bucky's arm, removing plates, tugging at wires, and examining via hologram the contents of microchips. After making Tony swear on a figurative stack of AC/DC albums that none of his fiddling will cause any unwanted or uncomfortable repercussions, Bucky allows himself to be towed away by Wanda, who, along with Natasha, Scott Lang, and Vision, is intent on taking advantage of the pristine blue sky and warm weather by having a picnic on the shore of the small, manufactured lake within the compound.

The five eat, talk, play Frisbee, and swim in the lake all afternoon, and it's only when he takes note of the position of the sun that Bucky realizes how late it's getting. "Shit!" he curses, fumbling through the pile of clothes he left on the sandy shore until he finds his cell phone, whose ringer is still turned off from his time meditating on the roof this morning with Bruce. The digital clock confirms his sinking suspicion: it's well past five o'clock – in fact, it's nearly half past six – and he has several notifications.

**Stevie** _Are you coming?_

**Stevie** _Buck?_

**Stevie** _You're late..._

**Stevie** Missed call (5)

**Stevie** _I'll wait a few more minutes. I really want to see you._

The last text, time-stamped at 5:47 pm, twists a dagger into Bucky's gut: _OK, well... I was really looking forward to being with you._

"Guys, I gotta split," Bucky says as he hustles into his shorts and t-shirt. "I was supposed to meet Steve at five. _Fuck_. Pardon my French, ladies."

"Yeah, watch your fucking mouth," Nat deadpans, lying on her towel with her skin glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. "While you're at it, move your ass. I'm guessing Rogers wants a piece of it."

Leaving Wanda and Scott to explain to Vision exactly what _that_ means, Bucky grabs his flip-flops and towel and runs the half mile back to the garage, where he skids, barefoot and dismayed, to a halt in front of the empty parking spot where Steve's motorcycle is always parked. "Shit!"

Steve's phone goes directly to voicemail, and Bucky's flurry of texts to him show as delivered but not read. His next text message is to Wanda.

_I screwed up bad... help?_

_**_  
  


 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's jaw flexes, and he cuts his eyes to the side to glare at Nat. "Undercover mission, huh?"
> 
>  
> 
> Nat shrugs. "Undercover mission, romantic dinner for two with the love of your life. What's the difference?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

** Chapter 5  **

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

Wanda laughs, stepping in front of Bucky to stop him from pacing. "You'd know better than I would! But yes, I think it'll work. Steve is crazy about you, Bucky."

With a grimace, Bucky sticks his hands into his pockets. He's not strictly comfortable; it's been a while since he dressed up for any reason, and since he's been living in sweats, t-shirts, and hoodies, stuffing himself into a pair of slim-fitting, black pinstripe pants, dress shoes, and a lavender V-neck sweater has him feeling constricted and a little anxious. He can only hope it'll be worth it in the long run. Steve has always had a bit of a hard-on for a snappily-dressed James Buchanan Barnes.

"Yo, Nat just texted!" Sam pokes his head into the rarely used meeting room, which Wanda and Vision have transformed into a private rendezvous spot with velvet draping the walls, matching tablecloth and napkins, and tall taper candles providing ambient light. "They'll be here in a minute. You guys ready?"

Bucky blanches, but Wanda squeezes his hand and nods at Sam, who dashes away to finish up in the kitchen. "Relax," Wanda says, leading Bucky to his seat and pressing lightly on the top of his head. He sits down dutifully despite the fluttering in his abdomen. "How long have you guys been together?"

"In chronological terms, over eighty years," Bucky says with a dry smile. "But if you're counting actual time spent together with neither of us in cold storage? About ten or eleven."

"That's still a long time." Wanda retrieves the bottle of merlot she had left, uncorked, on the sideboard and pours some into each of the two wine glasses on the table. "And you've definitely been through worse than this, right?"

"I fucking shot him a few years ago."

Wanda rests her hand on Bucky's shoulder, smiling as she meets his eyes. "If he can forgive that, I'm sure he can forgive you for standing him up."

The sound of footsteps in the hall catches their attention, and Wanda pulls back to stand, inconspicuous, in the corner. "Quit your bitching, Rogers." That's Nat's voice, and even Bucky can't help grinning at her flat, world-weary affect.

Steve responds, "You know I hate surprises."

"Yeah, but shut up anyway. In here." Nat enters the room first, her outfit similar to Wanda's: tailored black pants, a white blouse, and black heels. She steps immediately to the side, and Steve appears in the doorway, his freshly shaven face registering confusion for a moment.

"Your table, sir." Nat gestures to the empty chair across the narrow table from Bucky, who stands, offering Steve a hopeful smile.

"I know I'm a day late, but how 'bout that dinner date, gorgeous?"

Steve's jaw flexes, and he cuts his eyes to the side to glare at Nat. "Undercover mission, huh?"

Nat shrugs. "Undercover mission, romantic dinner for two with the love of your life. What's the difference?"

"Hmm." Steve huffs a sigh and sits down, not looking at Bucky, who nonetheless cheers internally with relief. If Steve was _really_ mad, he would've turned on his heel and stalked out of the room the instant he saw Bucky sitting there. He could be a downright haughty bitch when he wanted to.

"We'll be back shortly." Nat, with Wanda in tow, disappears from the room, leaving the men alone, and Bucky's nerves crank up to eleven again.

 

"What's all this—"

"Steve, I wanna—"

Speaking simultaneously, they smirk at each other and drop their eyes. After a moment, Bucky tries again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and Steve glances up at him, guarded. "Not just for missing our date yesterday, although I really, _really_ am sorry about that. I honestly lost track of time. But that's no excuse. If I was putting you first like I should've been, it never would've happened."

Steve says nothing, although his expression softens.

"See, I felt like you weren't holding up your end of the deal we made when we came here." Bucky takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, his heart in his throat. "It seemed like you had all kinds of time for everybody else but not for me."

Opening his mouth to protest, Steve subsides again when Bucky shakes his head, wide-eyed.

"But it wasn't you, baby. It was me." Bucky reaches across the table, palm up, and Steve doesn't hesitate for a second, placing his hand in Bucky's. "You were right. I needed to make friends with the rest of the gang. I definitely took it too far, but you know me." Bucky rolls his eyes. "The king of going all in."

[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Dinner-Date-with-Steve-761701933)

"Hold on. I'm just basking in this moment. Would you mind saying 'you were right' again for me?" Steve grins. "Slowly this time."

"You hush that smart mouth, Rogers." Bucky squeezes his fingers, smiling back at him. "So the bottom line is that I've started developing those relationships you knew I needed even though I didn't, but the most important relationship I'll ever have is with you, and that'll never change. You know that, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Hey." Steve rises and skirts the table, pulling back Bucky's chair and climbing into Bucky's lap with his arms around Bucky's neck. "Yeah, I know that. I hope you know the same goes for me. I should've paid more attention to your feelings, but I was too busy being right."

"Jesus Christ," Bucky laments as Steve dissolves into laughter, "I've created a monster."

"I've got a monster for you."

"Oh, _really_." They're both grinning when Bucky pulls Steve down for a kiss, which is just getting interesting when someone clears her throat in the doorway, interrupting them.

"Pardon me, gentlemen." Nat breezes right past the two of them as if Steve isn't fully straddling Bucky's lap and deposits dishes in the center of each of their place settings. "Your salads are here. But by all means, please continue trying to swallow each other's tongues."

" _No_ ," Wanda chastised them. "We've all put too much work into this for you two to ditch out to have sex in a closet or something." She places a basket of bread in the center of the table and pinches Steve's ear. He yelps and climbs off Bucky, sticking his tongue out at Wanda as he takes a seat in his own chair.

"Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'we've all put too much work into this'?" Steve asks, but Wanda, following Nat back out the door, merely smiles on her way out. "Buck?" There's a vaguely warning tone in Steve's voice, so Bucky flashes the million-watt smile that Steve had long ago ironically dubbed "the panty-dropper."

"I may have enlisted a little help with this elaborate apology from the other parties in my newly developed relationships."

"Oh, yeah?" Steve watches Bucky take a bite of his salad. "What kind of help?"

Bucky pauses to swallow before answering. "Obviously, we have a couple of beautiful waitresses."

"Mm-hmm..."

"Bruce did the wine shopping while Pepper picked up the groceries."

Steve looks skeptical. "And what kind of bad business were _you_ up to?"

"Wanda and Nat and I had some shopping to do, too. For later," Bucky clarifies, his heart thumping harder.

"Hmm. Well, it can't be lube, since we have that on Amazon auto-subscription," Steve muses with a grin.

"Ha. We'll never run out of slick, with all we have stashed around the apartment."

"And in the car," Steve adds.

"The bike's saddlebags."

"On the Quinjet."

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that one. You're such a Boy Scout, Stevie."

"Always be prepared."

Partway through the second course, an artfully arranged assortment of canapés, Steve says, "I probably shouldn't ask, but where'd the food come from?"

"Our chefs this evening are the esteemed Samuel Wilson and the acclaimed Scott Lang." Bucky pokes one of the canapés, squinting at it. "I'm actually amazed how good everything is. This one looks like, what, scallop and chorizo?"

"Everything _is_ good," Steve agrees, holding up a slab of cucumber topped with smoked salmon, "but if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow..."

"My love. Have you forgotten? We can't get sick." Bucky grins around a mouthful of food, and Steve laughs.

"It's a damn good thing we have iron stomachs, or I'd probably ralph watching you eat like that."

"You put up with it 'cause you know what else I eat like a maniac." Bucky leers. " _You_."

"Ah, yeah, I figured that," Steve says, delicate color fanning out over his cheekbones. Bucky knows that look well; it has nothing to do with embarrassment or discomfort and everything to do with the dirty thoughts Bucky puts into his head with almost no effort at all. "Just remember, Wanda will kill us if we don't make it through dinner without sneaking away to fuck in a closet."

"I was thinking we could fuck right here on the table."

"I would very much appreciate if you didn't," Wanda says as she rounds the corner with a plate in each hand, and Steve's blush deepens to an alarming shade of red while Bucky bursts into laughter.

"Okay, okay. I'll try and keep my paws off him." Bucky aims for a contrite expression, but he can't wipe the grin off his face.

"Do your best." Wanda presents their overloaded plates with a flourish. "Our chefs have created a meal worthy of your insane metabolisms."

"Damn," Bucky marvels, eyeing the mound of food in front of him. In addition to a massive flat iron steak that fills more than three quarters of the available space, the plate is piled high with roasted squash, some type of cucumber salad, and mashed potatoes. "Sam and Scott made all _this_?"

Nat saunters into the room with another bottle of wine. "Sam grilled the steaks while Scott made the sides. And Wanda and I may or may not be responsible for dessert."

"You guys are too much," Steve protests, but the ladies are already ducking out again, leaving them to their food, their wine, and their continuous flow of easy, often innuendo-laden conversation. By the time they've finished eating, they both swear they can't fit in even a bite of dessert, but they change their minds after Nat reappears with two small plates, followed by Wanda carrying a domed dessert tray.

"Voila!" Nat whisks the lid off the tray, and the mens' jaws drop.

"Depression sugar milk pie," Wanda says proudly, and Nat beams, nodding at Steve.

"Your mom's recipe from the Smithsonian archives."

"Hot damn," Steve murmurs, visibly moved, and Bucky's eyes fill with tears he quickly blinks away. "You gals are too much."

"Anything for our little lovebirds," Nat coos, smirking as she ruffles Bucky's hair and narrowly escaping the swing he takes at her.

"Enjoy!" Wanda calls over her shoulder as she and Nat scurry out of the room.

"Thanks you!" Bucky yells after them, turning his attention back to Steve, whose smile could illuminate the whole multi-building facility. He reaches across the table and takes Bucky's hand again, stroking his thumb over the knuckles.

"And thank _you_ , baby," Steve says in a soft, reverent voice. "Tonight has more than made up for the past few days."

"You mean our refusal to talk about our feelings like adults?"

"Yeah, that."

"Tonight's not over, by the way." Bucky smiles at the way Steve's eyes widen.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. First, I'm gonna race you to the middle of this pie."

**

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I owe you an apology, sweetheart."
> 
> Lifting his head, Bucky frowns a little. "For what?"

[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Adapting-Chapter-6-762742186?ga_submit_new=10%3A1536179709)

"This way, boys."

Bucky and Steve manage to keep up with the rapid _tap-tap_ of Natasha's heels as they follow her down the hallway, but only because their legs are longer than hers. 

"Why are we going to the training room?" Steve asks, perplexed, and Bucky squeezes his forearm, giving him a reassuring smile. 

"Let's find out."

The training room, as it's known amongst the team, is more of a warehouse-slash-hangar area secured behind a set of reinforced steel doors. It's stark, austere, wide open, and outfitted in gleaming glass and metal. When Nat gives a brisk rap with her knuckles, however, the double doors open onto a totally different scene. Steve lets out a soft whistle at the sight of what now could serve as a ballroom, a large, open area curtained off by and draped in yards of delicate fabric and thousands of soft white fairy lights. The wall of windows is uncovered, and the night sky fills their view as they cross the threshold into this surreal setting. 

"Gentlemen," Wanda says from behind them, and they turn to see her beaming as she gestures to the observation balcony, "I present DJ Spider-Man." Peter waves wildly from the dimness of the balcony, and a moment later, the gentle horns of Glenn Miller's orchestra fills the air.

" _Moonlight Serenade_." Steve covers his mouth, blinking hard. "Did you—"

"Yeah, I gave ol' Petey up there a playlist." Bucky places his hands on Steve's waist, stepping into his space, belly to belly. "All the songs we used to hear on the radio while I spun you around the living room, or when we could sneak away to your tent in the war. Remember?"

A tear tumbles over Steve's lower lashes, and Bucky thumbs it away before pressing his lips against Steve's. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's neck, and they're lost in the kiss when the sound of catcalls from the balcony startles them both. 

"We have an audience," Bucky mutters, grinning. The whole team is up there, leaning against the railing with Cheshire cat grins on their faces: Bruce, Sam, Vision, Scott, Rhodes in his robotic prosthetic legs, Pepper, even Tony himself. 

"What do you guys want to watch a couple old men make out for?" Steve shouts up at them. 

"We came here to see you dance, not suck face." Tony gestured at the dance floor. "Get out there!"

Bucky winks at Steve, his lips curving into a smile. "May I have this dance?" 

"You can have all the dances you want." The dazed happiness on Steve's face is enough to make Bucky's heart do a somersault. He takes Steve's hand and leads him into the center of the floor, where they position themselves with Bucky leading, as he always had. 

Though he hasn't danced in over seventy years, the steps to the slow foxtrot come back to Bucky in an instant, and he twirls Steve around the dance floor to the romantic instrumental tune they know as well with their feet as they do with their ears. If he closes his eyes, Bucky suspects he may open them to discover they're back in their drafty Brooklyn tenement apartment, Steve a much twiggier presence in his arms but no less the love of his life. 

He doesn't quite dare test the theory; his heart can't handle it.

"We're no Fred and Ginger, but we ain't slouches, either," Steve laughed as the song comes to an end and their friends break into applause and whistling. 

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's ribs and holds him close, his face buried in the side of Steve's neck. He can't seem to swallow past the lump in his throat, let alone speak, but it doesn't matter when the next song – _Dream a Little Dream of Me_ – begins. Steve rests his hands on the small of Bucky's back and sways them to and fro to the music, his temple pressed against the top of Bucky's head. 

"I owe you an apology, sweetheart."

Lifting his head, Bucky frowns a little. "For what?"

As they continue dancing, Steve meets his eyes. "I was neglecting you. I just wanted you to connect with those meatballs up there—" He gestures at their friends on the balcony. "But I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. I deserved you turning the tables on me. That's why I was so mad about you missing our date yesterday, 'cause I'm too damn stubborn and have a hard time admitting when I'm wrong."

"Aw, Stevie." Bucky palms his cheek, tracing Steve's cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "Yeah, your bullheadedness drives me nuts sometimes, but it's part of why I love you so goddamn much, too. And even if you _were_ being a jackass—"  Steve swats his ass, and Bucky cackles. "Even if you didn't do it as gently as you could've, I know you were just doing what you thought was best for me."

"I don't deserve you."

"Fuck you, you don't." Bucky raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "You deserve _way_ better than me."

Steve's eyes widen. "Fuck you back. There _is_ no better than you."

"Well, fuck _me_." They crack up as the song transitions into _The Way You Look Tonight,_ and Steve's eyes soften further.

"Wasn't this—" 

"—the song playing the first time we kissed? Sure was." Bucky pulls Steve closer and kisses him again, long and slow, drawing more catcalling from above, which they ignore. When they part for breath, Bucky crosses his wrists behind Steve's neck and basks in their mutually adoring gaze. "How old were we then? Sixteen, seventeen maybe?"

"Something like that. Young enough we had to worry about my ma catching us," Steve says, chuckling. "Remember that one time she almost walked in on us fooling around on my bed, and you pretended I was having an asthma attack?"

Bucky throws his head back and laughs. " _Jesus_. I almost forgot about that. Think she was onto us?"

"I didn't then, 'cause I was young and stupid, but sure." Steve smiles fondly. "I think she knew, and she didn't say anything 'cause she knew how far gone we were for each other."

"And how right we were for each other."

Steve tilted his head in agreement. "And how much we needed each other."

"Still do. I'm dizzy over you, doll." Bucky reels Steve out to arm's length only to spin him back in, both of them grinning. "How 'bout you?"

Steve responds by dipping Bucky deeply and kissing him to a refrain of still more hooting and hollering. Once upright, Steve says, "I'm head over heels for you, honey." 

They dance through several more romantic hits of their youth, even earning themselves some wild fanfare from the balcony when they break into a swing routine for the more up-tempo _In the Mood_ , but Steve's elegant steps come to a standstill when the opening notes of  _It's Been a Long, Long Time_ fill the room.

"But this wasn't – we didn't – this was..." Probably no one else in the world would notice the minute tremble in Steve's jaw, but Bucky does. 

"I know." Bucky takes both of Steve's hands in his. The lump is back in his throat, but he forces himself to speak. "This one came out after the war, after we were both... gone, so we missed it. But I heard it when I was holed up in Bucharest, and I couldn't stop listening to it. I was just figuring out who you were and what you meant to me, and this song gave me hope that I could have that again. That _we_ could have it again."

Steve opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. When he finds his voice, it's thick and strangled and brings tears to Bucky's eyes. "When I woke up in this century, I clung to anything that reminded me of before, especially anything that made me feel closer to you. This song was on one of the records I bought, and it – when I didn't think I could bear being alive without you, and then you—" His face crumples, and Bucky collects Steve into his arms, cupping the back of his head as they rock slowly from foot to foot to the rhythm of the song, Steve's shoulders juddering with silent sobs. With his eyes screwed shut, Bucky sings along with the words, his lips brushing Steve's hair all the while and tears streaming down his own face and dampening the collar of his sweater.

The song ends, leaving them in silence, but they're hesitant to release each other; when they do, they smile sheepishly at each other and dab at each other's faces with shirtsleeves. Bucky glances at the balcony and is surprised to find it empty, although Peter's absence does explain the silence. "I love you," Bucky says, catching Steve's hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist, and Steve cups Bucky's chin in one strong hand.

"I love you, Buck."

"Bucky? Steve?" Wanda's soft voice floats to them from the doorway, where she stands alone and pigeon-toed, as if afraid to interrupt. "The jet's ready."

"Oh! It's time for the best part!" Bucky's eyes light up, and he drags Steve off the dance floor. 

"There's _more_?"

**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Buck." With his lips next to Bucky's ear, Steve murmurs, "I don't tell you often enough how happy you make me. You're my reason for living. You're what keeps me fighting when I don't think I can fight anymore. While you were gone, I wasn't living; I was existing. I only started living again when I found out you were alive."
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky pulls back and favors Steve with a bashful smile. "Good. That makes this a lot less nerve-wracking."
> 
>  
> 
> Steve's brow furrows. "What?"

"So you're not gonna tell me where we're going?"

From the seat next to Steve, Bucky shoots him a beatific smile. "That would ruin the surprise."

"No shit." Steve tries to pout, but he fails by snorting out a giggle when Bucky deposits himself in Steve's lap and nibbles his earlobe. "Hey, that's not fair. That mouth of yours should be outlawed."

"For more than one reason," Bucky agrees before yelling toward the cockpit, "Hey, Sam – how much longer?"

"Not enough time for a quickie in the back," Sam fires back, and Bucky makes a face at him.

"Smart-ass."

" _Pain_ in the ass."

Turning his attention back to Steve, Bucky finds him grinning. "What?"

"I just love how comfortable you've gotten with everybody." Steve takes Bucky's metal hand. "Even if we had to go through some growing pains to get here."

"I promise," Bucky says without a shred of exaggeration, "tonight will _more_ than make up for all that."

Steve stretches up for a kiss. "It already has."

"All right, get ready," Sam yells from the front as the Quinjet drops in speed and altitude. "Last stop, Maudlin Old Men Boulevard."

"I swear to God, Wilson," Bucky says, his tone threatening and his grin anything but.

"Tony said to tell you there's a car fueled up and ready to go," Sam says after a smooth landing that makes Bucky consider and immediately nix a corny bird joke.

"Uh, did he say what kind of car?" Bucky asks as the three of them wait for the cargo ramp to descend so Steve and Bucky can disembark into the temperate evening. The regional airport is small and rural, damn near in the middle of nowhere, and Tony had to pull only a few strings to get them clearance to land here, which is fortunate, because it's the closest airport to their destination by at least an hour.

"Oh, you'll know it." Sam grins like a shark as he holds up an electronic key fob with a distinctive logo on the back. "It's the only Bentley at _this_ airport. You can take that to the bank."

Steve's jaw drops, and Bucky whistles, impressed, as he shoulders the weekend bag he packed for himself and Steve. "Damn! I knew Stark would deliver!"

The black Bentley Continental that awaits them is as glossy and luxurious as to be expected, and Bucky takes the driver's seat, the allure of their destination reeling him in by his heartstrings. He allows Steve a few minutes to _ooh_ and _aah_ over the buttery black leather interior of the car before turning to him with a devious grin, a silk scarf in his hand.

"Sugar, forgive me, but I have to do this."

Steve's baby blues widen as Bucky leans toward him with the scarf. "You're – are you serious?"

"Please trust me." Bucky gives him his best puppy dog eyes. "I want this to be a surprise."

Steve grumbles a little, but Bucky knows his acquiescence is a foregone conclusion by the twitch of his full lips. It doesn't hurt that the scarf is the same one Steve used to blindfold Bucky during a particularly intense bedroom romp a few weeks before. Steve's a nostalgic guy by nature, but when Bucky gets him thinking about any of their notably excellent sexcapades, Steve's a goner.

"It's only for about twenty minutes," Bucky assures Steve as they pull out of the airport, which is deserted at this hour. "No peeking. If you're a good boy, I'll give you the suck job of your life once we get there."

Steve groans, but Bucky knows damn well he can't argue with that.

They arrive at nearly eleven o'clock, and Bucky navigates the long driveway with his nerves sizzling, the stereo turned up high so the crunch of gravel beneath the tires won't give away their location. For the same reason, he parks at the very edge of the driveway and hurries around to the passenger side of the car to help Steve get out, the soles of his shoes coming down on nothing but grass.

"Can I look yet?" Steve gripes, clutching Bucky's arm, but before Bucky can answer, Steve inhales deeply, a smile creeping across his face. "Wait," he mutters. "The air smells familiar. Are we—"

Grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, Bucky releases the knot in the scarf and pulls it away from Steve's eyes, revealing the little country house they shared before moving into the facility with the rest of the Avengers. A very conscientious someone has left the porch light on for them. "Yup. For the next two days, it's all ours."

" _How?_ " Steve cries, gathering Bucky into his arms and hugging him so hard Bucky's feet leave the ground as they spin in a circle on the lawn. 

Laughing, Bucky secures his own arms around Steve's neck and drinks in the look on his face in this moment, committing every detail to memory. Making Steve smile has been his life's ambition since grade school, and he knows he makes Steve happy on a regular basis, but seeing him _elated_ is a rare enough indulgence that when it happens, Bucky savors it. "I don't know how Tony pulled it off or what he said to the old man," he says. Their former landlord was a stickler for a long-term lease. "But he agreed to let us use it for a couple days. Come on; let's go inside. The girls came up early this morning to set things up for us." Even without Bucky asking, Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper had taken the jet before seven a.m. to make the bed, stock the kitchen, and ensure he and Steve would have no need to leave the property for at least two days. Bucky had resisted the urge to tell them he doesn't even plan to let Steve leave the bed, let alone the property.

"You've got the entire team wrapped around your little finger already, don't you?" Steve chuckled as they climbed the familiar porch steps.

Jiggling the key in the lock the way they always had to, Bucky gives him an incredulous look. "Me? Honey, they did all this for _us_. Do you have any idea how much they love you? Sam was just telling me last night how sad you always looked and how different you are now that we're back together. He said it was like meeting the real Steve for the first time."

They get the door open and cross the threshold into the furnished house, which, except for personal odds and ends they'd taken with them when they moved out, looks exactly the same as it had when they lived here: the furniture is in the same place, the same faded rug lays on the floor in front of the couch, even the same magnets adorn the fridge door. Memories flood Bucky's brain in a way they haven't since his post-cryo recovery in Wakanda, and he's grateful when Steve embraces him, holding him upright against the surge.

"Buck." With his lips next to Bucky's ear, Steve murmurs, "I don't tell you often enough how happy you make me. You're my reason for living. You're what keeps me fighting when I don't think I can fight anymore. While you were gone, I wasn't living; I was existing. I only started living again when I found out you were alive."

Bucky pulls back and favors Steve with a bashful smile. "Good. That makes this a lot less nerve-wracking."

Steve's brow furrows. "What?"

"Hold on, let me do this right." Digging in his pocket, Bucky sinks to one knee and casts a hopeful gaze upward at Steve, whose mouth falls open as Bucky holds up the ring, a thick band of black gold channel-set with princess-cut rubies and aquamarine: Steve's and Bucky's birthstones, respectively. "Stevie," Bucky says softly, tears filling his eyes, "You're my best guy, my true love, and my other half. You're the only person I want to share candlelight dinners with, and you're the only dance partner I'll ever need. You've saved my life a hundred times, and I'd give mine for you in a heartbeat. There's only one way you could make me happier than you already do. Will you marry me?"

His throat working, Steve struggles to speak, his chin quivering and his eyes bright with unshed tears. "You mean, like, _really_ marry you? Officially, publicly, the works?" Bucky nods vehemently, and a grin splits Steve's face wide open, spilling sunshine all over the room as he falls to his knees and into Bucky's arms. 

"Well?" Bucky asks, his own eyes burning and wet, his heart racing. Some tiny, pessimistic part of his brain hisses at him _what if he says no? what if_ —

"Yes! Yes, yes, _yes_ ," Steve babbles, detaching his face from Bucky's neck, clutching his shoulders, and meeting his eyes. They're both blubbering now; what a sight they'd make if anybody was watching them: about four hundred combined pounds of scientifically enhanced muscle reduced to gelatinous mounds of raw emotion in the middle of a living room floor somewhere in the woods of northern New Jersey. "Bucky, Jesus _Christ_ , yes, of _course_ yes, are you _kidding_?"

Laughing, Bucky cups Steve's face in both hands and draws him in for a messy, clumsy kiss, teeth clashing, lips wet and salty with tears, breath huffing with laughter into each other's mouths. "Oh – here, let me—" Bucky takes Steve's left hand, and, both of them trembling, he slips the ring onto Steve's finger.

"It's a perfect fit," Steve murmurs, beaming.

"It better be. I measured your finger with a string while you were sleeping."

Steve's eyebrows shoot skyward. "When – how long have you been planning this?"

"Sugar," Bucky chuckles, "I've been planning this since about 1937, but I measured you for the ring about a month after we moved into this place, and I ordered it custom-made not long after we moved to the facility. Tony recommended the jeweler." He strokes the ring with one finger. "This is what Wanda and Nat and I picked up earlier today."

"Oh, Buck..."

"Oh!" Bucky exclaims, releasing Steve's hand and pulling out his phone. "I promised everybody I'd call them as soon as you answered."

Steve shakes his head in disbelief, laughing. "They _all_ knew you were going to do this?"

"'Course they did. They're family, baby." Bucky kisses Steve and pushes a button on his phone. A moment later, Tony's face appears onscreen, tight with anticipation.

"Well?" Tony demands, then turns his head and hisses out a _shh!_ sound. "Did he say yes?"

Steve turns the phone toward him so both he and Bucky appear on Tony's screen. "I said yes," he says, grinning.

Tony whoops and punches the air, and sound erupts around him as the rest of the group shrieks and cheers and whistles. "Congrats, you crazy centenarians," he says, grinning widely. "We want to hear all about it when you get back, but we don't want to hear a peep out of you for the next two days. Go celebrate; break the bed if you gotta."

Bucky guffaws while Steve turns bright red.

"No, I mean it," Tony continues, waving a dismissive hand. "Do whatever you want. I bought the house. It's yours. Think of it as a private little retreat whenever you need a little time alone together. Happy engagement, you two. Talk to you in a couple days!"

"But y—" Before Bucky can finish the thought, Tony disconnects the call, and Bucky turns to Steve, both of their jaws agape.

"Did you know he—"

"I had no idea!" Bucky says, laughing. "He _bought us this house_? What the fuck would he have done with it if you said no?"

"Bucky." Steve climbs to his feet and pulls Bucky up with him, smiling over his shoulder as he leads Bucky by the hand toward the bedroom. "If you think there was ever a chance of me saying no, you're outta your goddamn mind."

"Well, I think _that's_  been established."

**

[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/venusdoom3/art/Adapting-Chapter-7-763000375?ga_submit_new=10%3A1536351497)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's just one more chapter to go, gang!


End file.
